SOME THINGS ARE WORTH REPEATING

Just before 5 o'clock on Tuesday afternoon, I had a call from someone
who wanted to talk about crystal meth.

Since the summer of 2005, when The Post ran a series of 12 articles about
crystal meth, "Not In My Backyard: Crystal Meth In Your Community," these
calls have come periodically. Less often of late, as the series has faded a
bit from memory.

Often these calls are from desperate mothers who don't know where to
turn, and who remember reading the articles, and who are hoping that I
might be able to tell them who to call so that they can get help for
their addicted child.

Sometimes, they just want to talk. I forward them to a support group
in Hanover called "Tough Love," which was in action in 2005, and is
still supporting parents of addicts in our area. They still meet
weekly, and membership rises and falls, but there is consistently a
membership.

What I've found, from speaking with the leader of Tough Love, along
with police and the people who call me, anonymously, for a phone
number, is that The Monster has not gone away, and its victims have
become younger.

On the occasion of Tuesday afternoon, a sad woman addressed me on the
phone. She remembered the series, and she remembered poems that I've
printed in this space in the past couple of years, written by those
who have experienced crystal meth and are struggling to get away from
it.

This woman told me about her 14-year-old daughter who has been caught
in the grasps of the Monster. She asked me to re-run a poem that she
remembers in this space.

I agreed. The thing about the topic of crystal meth -and all other
illicit drugs -is that it doesn't go away.

It's not that nothing is being done about it, but as I've written
before, their hands are largely tied. Last summer, a notorious drug
house in Hanover was busted and several arrests were made.

This week on page A4, in the Police Blotter, you can see that the West
Grey Police made some headway in this matter in Durham, with seven
arrests.

As I've reported before, the drug's effects on the families of those
who have become addicted is not all that it destroys. There is the
hardship that young abusers and their parents face when the abuser
wants to get well, the spinoff effects of the drug's abuse that are
felt rippling throughout the community (petty thefts, break-ins,
domestic assaults and more).

But we can't say it as well as those who have lived it. So this week,
I am once again allowing the words of a mother and of an addict
(unrelated to each other) to tell the real story.

The first is a poem that was sent to The Post as a letter to the
editor, unsigned. It is against our policy to print unsigned letters,
but in this space, I have made an exception.

The second is a poem written by a meth addict who was getting help at
the time, and you will see that she was brave enough to sign it.

Both speak volumes.

MOTHERS AGAINST METH

The following poem was written from the heart of a local mother who
has been dealing with a child on meth.

Tears of worry, Tears of guilt, Tears of hope,

Recovery road built.

Watching you grow, Filled with pride, Morals and principles, Thought I
had tried.

Handsome and smart, Sensitive and caring, Now cold and
angry,

My patience and hope wearing.

I pray to the Lord, One day will come, Angels will guide
you,

Bring you back to your Mom.

I miss you so very much, The son I once knew

Has succumbed to the DEATH DRUG,

What am I to do?

You've become a grown man, A man I no longer know, How can I prevent
you

From walking down death row?

The worst drug on earth Has taken over our town, The future of our
youth . . . Is only heading down.

I would sacrifice my life to the Lord,

If only He would answer my prayer

To make Crystal Meth

Disappear and be something of a scare.

I love you so much, So much indeed,

That instead of being tough,

I've enabled you to do speed.

I thought I was helping, Believing your lies,

Not listening to my heart, Then thinking, what if he
dies?

I feel I'm to blame, People tell me I'm not, I try to believe
it,

Good decisions I've not taught.

The day you were born, The happiest day of my life, Watching you
deteriorate, Cuts my heart like a knife.

I will never stop praying, I will always have hope,

You will find the strength and will,

To be able to overcome and cope.

You can do it, I know you can, But you have to believe
it,

Within your heart, mind and soul,

One day at a time you can beat it

. . . bit, by bit, by bit! With all of my love, Mom of a Meth
addict

CRYSTAL DEATH

When life slips away you lose self control,

You lose who you are when you sell off your soul.

Many don't realize that evil lurks near,

What I once did embrace I've now learned to fear.

I let something strip me of my joy and my love,

I selfishly turned from God up above.

I've watched helpless as children were taken from mothers.

In horror I've seen sisters turn against brothers.

This drug takes away any emotion you feel,

It turns you into a liar who will cheat and steal.

You'll see only darkness through eyes that are black,

It'll rob you of innocence you can never get back.

It'll haunt your mind because it's always around,

You'll suffer until it takes to the ground.

Against this drug I thought I'd be strong,

But soon it owned me and I knew I'd been wrong.

It destroyed my life, I'll be lucky to live,

So listen to this warning that I give.

Stay away from this drug it brings a fate worse than
death,

It carries a sad sickness, it's called Crystal Meth.

Brittney McGee